


I dreamt that you loved me (let's make it a reality)

by the_griffin_green_blakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 01, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Sub!Clarke, The 100 (TV) Season 1, all of The Trauma never happened, also he calls her baby a lot bc betts and asroarke have ruined me, and also all of the babies, bringing back Bell calling Clarke ‘princess’ bc i miss those days, dom!bellamy, except not really, fuck mount weather honestly, honestly a lot of kinks, i’m sorry mom, my poor children are happy and at peace like they deserve, there is the tiniest bit of angst if you squint bc DUH its bellarke, this thing is fucking filthy yall, which means ALL of the sex can happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24124597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_griffin_green_blakes/pseuds/the_griffin_green_blakes
Summary: Set several years after season 1 as if Mount Weather and everything else never happened. The Delinquents fought with the Grounders and eventually made peace, the Ark came down, the Delinquents said “fuk u ur not the boss of me” and kept their own separate camp without rejoining the Ark, years went on and everyone is safe and happy and honestly guys it doesn’t fucking matter okay, this fic is nothing but vaguely s1 fluff and porn alright just roll with it. Also, it was supposed to be a short little cutesy oneshot and then blew up into a fucking monster which whoops my bad
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 325





	I dreamt that you loved me (let's make it a reality)

**Author's Note:**

> Pls don't be mad at me for not updating DMMW okay I PROMISE I'm working on it and have the majority of a long ass chapter written but this fic hit me like ton of bricks so

Bellamy Blake is an  _ asshole. _

He may be Clarke’s best friend in the whole universe, but he is also a giant asshole. So much so, in fact, that she feels the need to say this out loud.

“Bellamy’s a fucking asshole,” she says to Raven, somewhat petulent. 

Raven, sitting next to Clarke at the picnic table, doesn’t look up from her breakfast. In an unimpressed voice, without even looking at Clarke, she asks, “What’d he do this time?”

Clarke finds her hands fisting on the table in front of her while she stares at Bellamy across the way. He’s sitting around a campfire surrounded by children of various ages, telling them a story. There’s even a little girl in his lap, one thumb in her mouth and the fingers of the other hand woven into his hair. They’re all entranced by his voice, huge wide eyes staring at him in worshipping wonder. His tshirt is a little too tight on his torso and his hair is just long enough to reach down into his eyes and his hands are so large and steady where they hold the girl in his lap. It is not even remotely fair.

“Just--I mean--he’s--just--it’s not--just  _ look at him, _ Raven. Christ. How is he so stupidly attractive? It’s fucking stupid.”

This, for some reason--Clarke thinks she made a valid point--finally gets a real reaction out of Raven, and the brunette throws her head back in laughter. “You like his stupid pretty face. You’ve wanted to make sweet, sweet love to his stupid pretty face for years. Oh, don’t give me that look, Clarke; you can lie to yourself but you can’t lie to me. Just make a fucking move already so we all don’t have to watch you two pine after each other anymore, it’s passing disgusting and bordering on pathetic.”

“Ugh,” Clarke groans, slamming her head down onto the picnic table. To her credit, Raven is right. Clarke may have been able to lie to herself for way longer than is reasonable about her ‘crush’ on her co-leader, but she could not lie to Raven. Also, her friend was not stupid, and she had eyeballs. She’d known years ago Clarke was head over heels in love with Bellamy with no hope of return.

“There, there, you absolute moron,” Raven said fondly, patting her shoulder. Clarke hit her head on the table a few more times for good measure. 

* * *

Clarke wasn’t even sure why it was suddenly a problem.

They had been on the ground for years now--seven? Eight?--and at peace for almost that long. She and Bellamy shared a cabin, for fuck’s sake, a little two bedroom thing he’d built them after they’d made peace with the Grounders so they’d always be close if one needed the other for something or an emergency happened in camp and both leaders needed to be found quickly. She’d surely seen him around kids dozens of times in those years, and it had never made her lose her breath before. But suddenly, after that morning she sat and ogled him while chatting with Raven, she could barely stand to look at him without a flush blooming in her cheeks and rolling down her chest--regardless of where they were or who was around. She’d actually had to clench her legs together to ease the ache when she watched him  _ bite an apple _ at dinner that night. An apple. What the fuck?

She decided to avoid him. It would go away eventually, right?

It turned out to not be that hard. Summer may have only been starting, but it was hotter than shit. Construction projects were going on all around camp--new buildings being built, roofs being replaced, the greenhouse being expanded, the fence being mended--the list literally never stopped growing. This meant that Bellamy was busy with all of that plus his guard shifts, and Clarke was beyond tied up in medical patching together every injury you could imagine, from the smallest of scratches to open bone fractures, from seasonal allergies to heat stroke--really, any injury you could imagine a bunch of idiots inflicting upon themselves during summer, Clarke was healing. She’d get up well before him in the morning, eat a breakfast of berries and nuts on her walk to the hospital, spend a couple hours organizing and stocking and filing and doing inventory--all the things she didn’t have time for during the busy hours of the day. And then she’d return home after the sun went down and pass out in her bed immediately. And for the better part of a week this was enough of a distraction to keep her thoughts from circling Bellamy and how amazing his stupid strong arms would look holding a newborn.

Clarke severely underestimated how codependent she and Bellamy were, though. It started when Bellamy came waltzing into medical, a child that was much too old and large to be carried perched on Bellamy’s broad shoulders as if the kid weighed nothing. The boy’s mother, walking in behind Bellamy, frantically told Clarke the story of the little boy playing around on the camp’s pile of trees that’d been cut down for building materials. He’d fallen and twisted his ankle severely, but Bellamy, ever the hero, was there to dry the boy’s tears and carry him to medical and save the day.

Because  _ of fucking course he was. _

Clarke was able to get away with being short with him since she had a child with a panicking mother on her hands, and soon Bellamy was gone. But the next day at lunch he was back, bag of food and freshly filled canteen of water in hand.

“Hey, princess.” God, his stupid deep voice and that stupid nickname he said with such affection and his stupid sweet sincere face were going to fucking destroy her. She spent way too much time ogling his hands with his long, thick fingers that she was sure were beyond talented as he set the sack down on the table she was sorting herbs on. “I know you’ve been too busy to remember to eat all week, so I brought you some lunch.” He stepped into her space, put a hand on her shoulder, and ducked his head to meet her eyes. “God, Clarke, you look like shit. Have you even slept?”

On second thought, fuck his stupid deep voice and the stupid rude words he said. And not fuck it the fun way, either. 

“Gee,” Clarke responded, mouth twisting in what was supposed to be a wry smile but was probably more of a grimace. “That’s so kind of you to say, thank you.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened earnestly. “Seriously, you need to take care of yourself. I can’t have you collapsing on me, I need you.”

They had said those words to each other thousands of times by now-- _ I need you _ . It was the simple, honest truth. Clarke may not believe Bellamy would ever love her back the way she loved him, but she knew he needed her by his side in some way. Would it hurt when one day he found a woman to be by his side always, in every way that mattered, when he moved out of their little cabin and into one for him and his wife? When he started a family, and there were an endless number of mini-Blakes running around, with wild hair and too many freckles to count? Sure, of course it would. But he would always need Clarke there too, and that was enough. 

“I’m fine, Bell, really. We just have a lot going on right now, you know how the summer is.” Clarke tried to make her voice as convincing as possible, but by the furrow of Bellamy’s brow, she didn’t do that great of a job.

“Can’t someone else cover a bit of your shift for a day? If you took turns staying late you could actually get some decent sleep and not look like a zombie. At least make sure you’re eating well.” His hand moved from her shoulder to the back of her neck, his fingers digging into the space where her neck met her skull, messaging out tension Clarke didn’t even realize she was holding. It felt so goddamned good a moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it, her head falling forward to give him more access. He brought his other hand up to help ease her muscles, and his lips were suddenly dangerously close to her ear, voice deliciously low as he rumbled, “That’s it, princess, let me take care of you.”

Clarke had a sudden vision of him saying those words in a very different context--namely: in his bed, with no clothes on, his head between her thighs, his name on her lips.

Her breath caught and her eyes flew open as she shoved her chair back and stood up, putting some much needed space between her and her best friend. She cleared her throat and tried to ignore Bellamy’s confused, wounded expression. “Thanks, but I really need to get back to work if I’m ever going to make it home tonight. I’ll see you later.”

“Clarke--” 

“Excuse me, Dr. Griffin? I’m sorry to bother you, but I cut my hand on a saw and I think I need a few stitches.”

Bellamy and Clarke both turned towards the voice that had spoken at the doorway, and Clarke tried not to sigh in relief too loudly. Another excellent excuse to shoo Bellamy away. 

* * *

It only took Clarke nearly passing out from exhaustion for the rest of her medical staff to banish her from the clinic for a full twenty four hours. They set a timer and everything, and told her if she came back before the twenty four hours were up then none of them would work for the next week. She wasn’t sure she really believed them, but she’d take the down time when she could.

Grabbing her private sketchbook, she headed to the lake. She had many different sketchbooks by now--as her people had found peace, they had not only started trading with other clans more but also going on more scouting missions, finding more abandoned ruins with surprising novelties still tucked inside. She got at least one, usually multiple, every year for her birthday, and Bellamy always brought them straight to her whenever he got a hold of one. He kept an eye out whenever he was at other villages for meetings and trade agreements or just festivals and celebrations. In return, she brought him every history nerd book she laid her eyes on. 

While she shared most of her drawings with her family and friends, and even did drawings by request from time to time--mostly people asked for loved ones they’d lost and wanted to remember--her private sketchbook was for her eyes and her eyes only. It was her safe outlet, where she could draw whatever she wanted without worrying about judgement or how it looked. She brought her dreams to life in this sketchbook, all her hopes for the: sometimes serious, steady, always there for her to fall into if she couldn’t do it on her own anymore; sometimes laughing, crinkled at the corners, alight with affection. His hands, big and rough and able to swallow her whole, engulf one of her own with ease, span the space from her waist near her belly button around to her spine. His back, strong and muscular, beaded with sweat and tanned deeply from the summer sun. His curls, his beautiful, dark, unruly curls--though she could never quite capture his hair’s softness quite right on paper. 

Her obsession with drawing Bellamy, however, was not going to be enough to calm her today. As she set out a blanket on a sun-warmed rock on the side of the lake, she recalled her dream from the night before, and began to draw.

Amazingly, it wasn’t long before blissful, sweet sleep reached up and claimed her, dragging her under peacefully for the first time all week. 

* * *

“Princess. Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up.”

Clarke blinked open her eyes slowly, awareness of her surroundings penetrating her mind like fragments of a puzzle being dug out of sand.

A soft blanket and a warm rock under her, finding her curled up in the sun like a cat.

Bellamy, kneeling before her, one hand brushing her cheek as he pushed her hair behind her ear and then threaded his fingers into the golden locks.

His smile: soft, real, but with something else behind it. There was a darkness to his gaze, something Clarke could not quite put her finger on. 

He didn’t have a shirt on, which was very common for him and the rest of the men on the ground during summer, which was very unfortunate for Clarke and her ability to focus. She could clearly see the broad span of his shoulders, the corded ropes that muscled his arms, one hand splayed on the ground over top of a picture of a little boy with curly dark hair, freckles, light eyes, his cheekbones and her nose….

_ Oh dear fucking God no. _

Clarke swallowed. Her gaze was caught on the photo she’d drawn. She’d dreamt last night that she and Bellamy had a kid, and he was the cutest, sweetest little thing in the world, and Bellamy was never supposed to see it, never supposed to  _ know _ …

Because the fact of the matter was, Clarke never saw herself having children. Maybe on the Ark, she knew it’d be expected of her eventually, and it was fine, she was indifferent. Once she got to the ground, she never thought she’d feel safe enough to want to bring a child into this world. But she wasn’t just thinking about  _ any _ child. 

She was thinking about  _ Bellamy’s _ children. And the thought of those...Yeah, those she wanted a whole lot of.

But that did not mean that Bellamy wanted a whole lot of little Clarke’s, so this was, to say the least, beyond embarrassing.

“B-Bellamy.” She had to clear her throat to get her voice to come out as anything more than a rasp. Whether it was from the nap or the anxiety, she didn’t know. “What are you doing here?”

He raised one stupid perfect eyebrow. “Lookin for you, princess. I went to check on you at lunch and medical said they’d released you for the day. When you weren’t at home, I figured this was the next best place you’d come to to relax.”

She nodded, gulped.

He tapped one finger on the sketchbook. “Whatcha got here?”

Clarke floundered, no idea what to say. With wide eyes, she ended up just shaking her head at him slowly.

He tilted his head, his stupid perfect hair falling down into his eyes. “No? Because it looks to me like it’s almost one of my baby photos, but it’s not quite right. Wanna tell me who it is?”

Clarke shook her head again, faster this time.

This made Bellamy laugh. “Come on, princess, I’m curious. Who’d you draw?” He smirked, that stupid, insufferable smirk he’d been throwing at her since the first day they landed on the ground. It was still just as annoying and, unfortunately, only hotter today than it was on day one. He leaned forward into her space, his nose just inches away from hers, his lips almost within kissing distance. She gulped, and tried very hard to keep her gaze up on his eyes and not down on his mouth. She probably failed--no,  _ definitely _ failed, if the way his smirk grew was anything to go by. 

“Bell.” Clarke’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Come on, princess.” His voice was almost taunting. “You can tell me. After all, you do owe it to me. You’ve been avoiding me all week, so it’s really the least you can do.”

Indignant, even though he was  _ right, _ Clarke protested, “I was  _ not _ avoiding you--”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Save the bullshit. Alright, I’ll make it easy on you and take a guess, and you can tell me if I’m right.” He didn’t wait for a confirmation from her before going on, “He definitely has a lot of resemblance to me. I mean, the hair is a dead ringer, and the freckles. But that is most definitely your nose, and your eyes, and your smile. So if I had to guess, I’d say...it’s our kid.”

Clarke sputtered for a minute, Bellamy’s smirk growing wider and more predatory, before she finally huffed in frustration and threw her hands up. “Yes, okay! Yes, it is our imaginary kid! I just had this dream last night and so I thought I’d draw it and--”

“Oh, did you now?” His voice is a lazy drawl. “And did you also dream about my arms, and my abs, and my face, and--”

Mouth dropping open in horror, Clarke shrieked, “ _ You looked through my sketchbook?!” _

This seemed to make Bellamy falter for one second, his smirk slipping a bit. “Well, yes. I saw the kid, and then I was curious. And I’d never seen this sketchbook before, so--”

“ _ There’s a reason for that!” _ Clarke was aware she was yelling, but sweet fuck, this was her worst nightmare. She reached up to smack her hands onto his chest and push him away, intending to run as far away from him as she could get and avoid him until he forgot all about this or she, like, died. Whichever came first. But instead of pushing him away, Clarke felt each of her hands engulfed by his, holding them to his chest. If possible, her face turned even redder than it already was.

“Okay, princess, okay, I’m sorry I looked through your sketchbook.” Bellamy’s voice was quiet and soothing when he said that, thumbs rubbing idle circles on each of her wrists. But then he paused, and said in a louder voice, “Actually, no I’m not. I’m sorry it upset you, or that I did it while you were asleep and could do nothing about it, or something. But I’m not sorry I did it.”

Clarke’s mouth dropped open in stunned fury. “You absolute  _ jackass _ \--”

Bellamy tugged on her wrists, pulling her closer. “You were just a little bit off in some of your drawings, though. Looks like you need a bit more time to study your model to get it just right. Luckily for you, I’m a generous muse.” He leaned forward even more, brushing his lips at her temple before rubbing his stubble along her cheek like a cat, nosing at her ear. Clarke’s breath stuttered in her chest, her eyes falling closed, and all thoughts of anger ceased to exist. All thoughts about anything in general ceased to exist, really.

All thoughts except  _ what the fuck is happening, _ that is.

A soft sigh escaped Clarke’s mouth without her permission, and Bellamy chuckled low against her ear. She could hear the smirk in his voice as his words dripped seductively over her like honey running down her spine. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, princess? Having me pose for you?” When Clarke didn’t respond, he squeezed her wrists a little tighter. “Answer me, princess.”

“Uh huh.”

Bellamy hummed, hands dropping from her wrists to settle dangerously low on her hips. “And I’m so willing to do that for you, princess. But I just need one small thing in return, okay?”

“Uh huh.”

“Admit it,” he demanded as he ghosted his lips down the column of her neck.

It took several seconds for the words to register in Clarke’s brain, and even after clearing her throat her voice came out much breathier than she intended. “Admit what?”

He dragged his nose back up her neck until his lips brushed her ear as he said, “Admit you, Clarke Griffin, want to have my baby.”

Clarke’s eyes snapped open.

He caught her earlobe in his teeth, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Still, she tried, “B-Bell, I…”

“What’s that? Can’t hear you, princess.” Clarke had never heard Bellamy’s voice as rough as it was in that moment. It was so low it was practically a growl, the vibrations skating over her body, making her nipples peak and her cunt ache. She pressed closer to him, desperate for any sort of warmth, any friction she could get. 

He hummed in approval, and then suddenly she felt herself being lifted off the rock and deposited in his lap. She whimpered when her sensitive core settled over the bulge of his pants, and she rocked forward, desperate to feel his cock against her. He tutted. “Ah, ah, ah, princess. Only good girls get that kind of reward.” He brought one large hand up to where her jaw met her neck, half his fingers splaying onto her cheek and the other half wrapping around her neck, and Clarke’s breath stuttered in her chest. He looked her in the eyes, his deep brown irises swallowed by the black of his pupils as he asked, “You gonna be a good girl for me, Clarke?”

She nodded frantically. She’d agree to anything at this point if it meant he’d keep his hands, his body on hers. 

His chest rumbled again, and he brought his lips within centimeters of hers. Clarke closed her eyes, expecting him to finally,  _ finally _ kiss her, but instead she just felt his breath ghost her lips as he demanded, “Say you want to have my baby.”

Clarke screwed her eyes even tighter shut. “ _ Bellamy _ ,” she groaned, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder, hands clutched at his back. “You’re  _ impossible.” _

Threading his fingers through her hair, he yanked her head back out where she could see he had one eyebrow raised. “Oh, I am, am I?” And then without any warning, Clarke found herself flat on her back, the love of her life settled in the cradle between her thighs. She whimpered, again-- _ God, she was pathetic _ \--and arched up under him, frustrated when he moved his hips away from her. One of his hands clamped down on her hip, holding her down to the ground, and the other curved itself low over her belly. “Say you want it, Clarke,” he growled. “Right here. Say you want me to give you a baby, leave a piece of me right here inside you for everyone to know about. Admit it, Clarke. Admit you want me to give you a baby.”

Clarke tossed her head back and forth, trying desperately to not give in. She was too far gone to remember why--too far gone to realize that at this point, with how desperate for him she obviously was, it didn’t matter if he knew she wanted his kid or not; their friendship was ruined either way. But still, some part of her held on.

And then his hand moved lower.

She choked when his fingers dipped below the waistband of her pants. The angle was shit and the pants were too tight, and before Clarke could suggest a solution Bellamy had her pants unbuttoned and his fingers dancing over her slit.

Bellamy groaned, dropping his head into her throat. “You’re so wet, princess. The thought of me getting you pregnant turn you on that much, huh? I can fix it, baby, I can take such good care of you--let me. Let me take care of you and our kid, huh?”

“Please, Bell, _please_ \--” She was close to tears, she was so desperate for him.

And just when she thought he might stop teasing her and actually slip one of his thick fingers inside of her, he removed his hand from her pants and settled it back on her belly, right where it would swell with a child. “I will, baby, I  _ promise _ I will--I’ll be so good to you, so good to our kid. I’ll take care of everything, keep you both safe, make you happy--”

“Yes,  _ Bellamy, yes _ \--”

The hand on her hip squeezed impossibly tight, grabbing her attention. “But first you gotta tell me you want to have my baby, alright, princess? I wanna hear you say it. I  _ need _ to hear you say it.” His eyes were impossibly dark, absolutely feral as they stared into hers.

Clarke didn’t know if it was a consent thing or just a kink thing, but either way she felt her resolve to deny him disappear. “ _ Babies _ .”

Bellamy’s brows furrowed the slightest bit in confusion.

Not stopping to think about what she was saying, Clarke breathed out, “ _ Babies _ , plural. I want to have your babies.”

Bellamy’s face went slack as he stared at her for what felt like hours. She started to fidget nervously under him, cleared her throat, and when that still didn’t break him out of his stupor she pushed him to the side and rolled out from under him, the mood completely ruined.

_ God, _ how could she have been  _ so fucking stupid? _ Bellamy was her best friend. He hadn’t gotten laid in a while, she knew (did she unconsciously keep tabs on his sex life because she was  _ that _ pathetic? Maybe.) and he’d probably happened upon her laying by the water barely clothed, and decided,  _ Oh, what the hell? _ and then she had to go and ruin it with her stupid truth bullshit and--

One minute, she was scrambling away from him. The next, she was being tackled to the ground. 

In his defence, Bellamy had rolled so that she landed on top of him and  _ not _ on the rock, but as soon as she was safe from injury he rolled her back under him, pinning her arms above her head. His face was fierce, brows drawn low, eyes steadily locked on hers, mouth in a tight line as he demanded, “Do you mean that?”

This was, most definitely, worse than him finding her sketchbook. “I--Bellamy--Look--”

He stared at her unflinchingly, waiting.

Clarke felt her body deflate. She looked up at the sky--blue, cloudless, so rare on the ground, so different from the view from space--now a distance memory. Her voice was barely loud enough to hear when she whispered, “Bell...I--God, I don’t want you to hate me. I’m sorry, okay? It’s stupid, and I never should have brought it up, I shouldn’t have--I’m just so sorry. I know you don’t--you don’t feel about me the same way and I--”

“Answer. The. Question. Clarke.”

“I don’t want to lose you!” she cried out, voice loud enough to scare birds from the trees nearby. She looked back at him to find his eyes softening, one hand letting go of a wrist to reach down and caress her face. 

His voice was gentle when he promised, “You’re not gonna lose me, princess. You could never. You’re stuck with me.”

Tears welled up in Clarke’s eyes, and she screwed them shut before Bellamy could see. “I know, you’re my best friend, and you always will be, and that’s okay, so long as you’re happy then I’m happy, and--and--” A hiccupping sob clawed its way up her throat.

“Shh, princess.” Her other wrist was released for Bellamy to gather her in his arms. She curled into his chest, fisting one hand in the hair at the base of his neck to hold on for dear life. “I  _ am _ happy, Clarke. With you.  _ You _ make me happy. And I’d be even happier if you tell me if you meant it, no matter what the answer is.”

Her voice was small like a child’s, needing his reassurance, when she mumbled, “Promise?” into his neck.

A large hand ran up and down her back soothingly. “Promise.”

It was quiet for a minute, Clarke steeling herself. Finally, she took a deep breath and blurted, “I meant it.”

Bellamy froze. 

For several seconds, Clarke was terrified. And then Bellamy was yanking her out of the safety of his chest and crushing his lips to hers. He swallowed her gasp of surprise with a groan of his own, the force of his kiss bruising. After a stunned second, Clarke reciprocated, kissing him back with all she had. He nipped her bottom lip, making her squirm in his lap and tease her tongue along his lips in retaliation, which he gladly opened for her. He tasted like salt from his time sweating in the sun and the berries he must have eaten with lunch and something just so uniquely  _ Bellamy _ she could cry.

It hadn’t gone on long before he pulled back, Clarke letting out a cry of despair at the loss of his lips, chasing after him unconsciously. He rested his forehead against hers, stilling her. “God, I fucking love you,” Bellamy whispered.

Clarke’s eyes snapped open. “You--what?”

Bellamy wore a look of determination Clarke hadn’t seen on his face since the last time they were at war. “I am in love with you,” he spoke very clearly, enunciating each word as if afraid she wouldn’t understand. “I have been for years. Since the first time you forgave me when I didn’t deserve it, back on the Dropship. When you made me believe I wasn’t worthless. I have been so goddamned in love with you for so long I don’t even know who I’d be without you, at this point. You are a part of me, and I love you, and I am going to give you so many kids it’s unreal.”

Clarke continued blinking at him in shock.

This seemed to make Bellamy nervous, his hold on her loosening slightly, his eyes dimming just a bit. “Unless--is that...not what you want? Did I misunderstand? Clarke, I--”

But then he couldn’t talk anymore, because Clarke’s lips were on his as she had finally gotten her shit together and realized that yes, this was real, and yes, Bellamy Blake just told her he was in love with her, and yes, he did feel the same way about her that she felt about him--

She was so elated by this news that she didn’t even realize that the reason their kissing kept getting interrupted was because she pulled back between every kiss just far enough to murmur, “I  _ (kiss) _ love  _ (kiss) _ you  _ (kiss) _ ” over and over and over again. Bellamy laughed against her lips, elated. She hadn’t seen him this happy in  _ years _ , his grin absolutely overtaking his face, making his eyes light up and crinkle at the corners and was that a dimple, did Bellamy Blake have a  _ dimple _ \--?

She hoped their kids had his dimple, too.

Evidently, she’d said that last part out loud, because without warning he was picking her up in his arms and standing, causing her to shriek and lock her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders. “We have to make a baby in order for it to have my dimple, so why don’t we go get started on that, huh?” He took off towards home, his hands locked on her ass, holding her to him as he somehow managed to pepper kisses all over her face and keep from tripping through the woods. Her delighted laugh was the sound startling the birds from the trees this time.

* * *

Bellamy kicked open the door to their cabin, kicking it closed behind them just to press her up against it. His lips moulded to hers, both his hands squeezing her ass and pressing her as tight against him as possible. She bucked under his hold, desperate for friction, for relief on her throbbing clit. “ _ Bell _ ,” she whined.

“Shh, I got you, baby, don’t worry. Gonna make you feel so good, princess.” His lips moved down the column of her throat as he turned them around and carried her towards his bedroom. He sucked several bruising kisses into her skin on the way before depositing her unceremoniously on his bed. When she squeaked in indigdition, he reached out and pinched a nipple through her bra. Then he yanked her shirt up and over her head, not even pausing before he pulled her pants down her legs, leaving her in just her bra and underwear. He stopped then, eyes trailing down every inch of her body, setting her on fire. She could feel the flush bleeding down her cheeks and over the tops of her breasts, under the cups of her bra. She squirmed, wishing he was touching her or at least giving her as good of a view. 

She sat up quickly, looping a finger through his belt loop and tugging him closer to her. “Not fair,” she whined, scrabbling at his belt. Bellamy batted her hands away to do it himself--which was much quicker, she was pleased to see--which left her hands free to cup his cock through his pants, running her fingers along the impressive bulge. “God, Bell, you’re so big. Gonna feel so good inside me.”

Clarke wasn’t sure if it was her touch or her words that set him off, but it made Bellamy thrust his hips into her hands. “Fuck, princess, you gotta stop, or this is gonna be over before it even starts.” And then his pants were being shoved down to his ankles and he was stepping out of them and kicking them away as both his hands came up to frame her face and bring her lips back to his. The kiss was  _ filthy _ , all tongue and biting down hard on her lip and practically melding them into one being with their underwear still on. If this was what kissing Bellamy Blake was like, having sex with him was going to be fucking unreal. 

Bellamy broke the kiss to grab her hips and toss her further up on his bed. He climbed up after her and promptly reached around her back to undo her bra. He wasted no time in baring her flesh to him, or in reaching up to cup her in his hands. “Fuck, baby, your tits are amazing. I can’t wait to see them swell up after I get you pregnant. They’re going to be fucking huge.” And then he dove down to pull one nipple in his mouth while the other was twisted between his fingers. Clarke threw her head back, one hand holding his head to her breast while the other clutched at the furs he had strewn across his bed. 

Soon-- _ thank God _ \--he started kissing his way down her torso, licking and sucking bruises into her skin as he went. When he reached her panties he dragged them down her legs, then spent several minutes kissing the flesh just above her pubic bone. “You’re gonna grow our kid right here, princess. A part of me is going to live inside you right under my lips. Fuck, you’re so gorgeous now as it is, I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you once you’re pregnant.”

As much as Clarke wanted to enjoy his words, his lips were way too close to where she wanted them for her to feel much besides frustration. “Bellamy, please, I need…” 

Her hips shifted unconsciously under him, trying to squirm her way to where she wanted him, and his huge hands curled over her hips and held her in place while he looked up at her from under his dark lashes. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“I need your mouth, Bell, please--”

“Shh, I got you, I’ll take care of you.” And then, making true on his promise, he ducked his head and licked up her slit with a flattened tongue without warning, making Clarke cry out.

As his tongue swirled around her clit her hands buried themselves in his curls. She would realize later that she was probably pulling on him hard enough to hurt, but at the time all she could think about was needing him closer, and needing a way to ground herself so she didn’t float off the bed. And that was  _ before _ he got his thick, long, glorious fingers involved, but pretty soon one turned to two and it was so, so good, but--

“ _ More.” _

“Anything you want, princess.” He bit down on the skin high on the inside of her thigh as he slid three fingers into her heat, making her nearly swallow her tongue. “Fuck, you’re gonna feel so good on my cock baby, gonna fill you up so good, you’ll see.”

She was incapable of anything in response except for “ _ yes” _ and “ _ Bell” _ and “ _ please _ ”.

“You wanna come?”

Clarke’s head nodded frantically.

“Okay, baby, I’ll let you come, don’t worry.” As he thrust in her with his three fingers he closed his mouth over her clit, triggering the best orgasm of her life.

* * *

Some time later Clarke came back to her body to find herself on her back, Bellamy stretched out pressed up against her side, his head resting on one hand while the other trailed itself up and down her side. The action seemed innocent enough, but with the way aftershocks were still rocking her body and his still-hard cock pressed against her hip, the touch branded her like fire.

He smirked at her when he saw her eyes peel open. “Welcome back, princess.” His voice was soft, brown eyes warm. “Good orgasm, huh?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“Sure thing, Your Highness.”

This kiss was much more languid than the others they’d shared. Bellamy tasted like her, and it made part of her want to get started on orgasm number two, but a larger part of her was still melting under the warmth of his gaze and wanted to just stay in this moment forever. Especially when he whispered “I love you” against her lips. 

A grin broke out on her face, making it hard to kiss him properly, especially when he grinned back. “I love you, too, Bell.”

Eventually, though, things started heating up again, and Clarke got tired of Bellamy’s underwear-covered cock thrusting against her hip when there was a much better place for it, so she turned onto her side to face him and threw her leg over his hip, grinding her pelvis towards him. “I don’t think so,” he growled, pushing her onto her back and rolling over top of her. “You might be in charge out there, princess, but in here what I say goes.”

If possible, she got even more wet. Not that she could just  _ tell _ him that, though. She wasn’t about to make this easy on him.

She reached up and nipped at his ear, whispering, “Oh, yeah?” in as taunting of a voice as she could manage when his deliciously warm weight surrounding her made her breathless. His hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises, and she bit him right where his neck met his shoulder in retaliation. She bent her knees up as far as they would go, running her feet up the sides of his legs as she went. Then she used them to push his underwear down towards his ankles at as slow of a pace as she could manage.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” The smirk he sent her way was dangerous, the glint in his eyes promising her nothing but trouble, and a shiver shook its way down her spine, making her press impossibly closer. Bellamy reached down, fisting a hand around the base of his cock, pumping slowly. “You want my cock, baby?”

Clarke canted her hips up towards him in answer, trying to hold back a moan at the sight. “God, Bell, you’re so big.”

He used his hand to guide himself through her slick folds, teasingly bumping against her clit. “Yeah, baby, gonna fill you up so good. You’re not gonna walk right for days.” Unable to hold it in any longer, she moaned his name, hips thrusting up towards him. “You like the sound of that? Love the thought of me splitting you open, leaving you dripping with my come? Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Bell. Fuck me, now.”

He drew back, taking his glorious cock with him. “Now, now, princess, what did I tell you?” Clarke growled in frustration, reaching up behind him and digging her nails into his back. He hissed, his hips thrusting forward against her once before he regained control over himself. He grabbed both her hands and pinned them above her head, then buried his face in her neck and sucked a hickey right where everyone would see it. “ _ Mine _ ,” he growled.

A thrill went through her, making her pliant beneath him before she remembered she was supposed to be fighting his bossiness. She locked her ankles around his ass, trying to pull him into her, but he resisted too easily. God damn his stupid gorgeous muscles. 

“Behave, princess,” he demanded in her ear.

She turned her head quickly, capturing his mouth with hers for a moment before biting at his lip, hard. “Fuck me, Blake.”

He shifted both of her wrists to one hand and brought the other down to wrap around her neck. He didn’t squeeze, but the weight of his large palm on her throat was enough to knock the breath from her lungs, make her quiver beneath him. “Ask me nicely and maybe I will.”

Clarke lost it. She tried her damnedest to squirm closer to him, to get any sort of friction in any way she could. She was shaking, her own juices coating her thighs and Bellamy had barely even touched her yet. She couldn’t free her hands from his hold no matter how hard she tried, and his grip on her throat made it impossible to so much as kiss him. She was fighting a losing battle and she knew it.

When she slumped beneath him, Bellamy’s smirk grew. “Give up, baby? Gonna be a good girl for me?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” she hissed. “Just  _ please _ fuck me.”

The hand pinning her wrists let go just to reach down and tweak her nipple. “Now that’s more like it. You know why I’m in charge here, baby? So I can take care of you. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

She nodded frantically.

“Let me take care of  _ this _ .” His hand moved from her nipple down to her lower stomach. 

It was too much--one hand on her throat, the other stroking over her womb, his gravelly voice promising he’d take care of her when she was usually the one taking care of people-- “ _ Bellamy, please. _ I  _ need _ you inside me, Bell, I need--”

“I know what you need,” he murmured. He hooked both of her knees around his elbows, splaying her open for him. “Need me to fill you up, need me to give you a baby, take care of you--” He thrust inside her all in one motion, making Clarke cry out and scrabble at his back, bite down on his shoulder as waves of pleasure rolled through her. Bellamy looked at her, wide eyed. “Did you just come?”

“ _ Yes--feels so good--so--Bell--I need--more--I--” _

Bellamy slammed his lips to hers with a growl. “I didn’t say you could come yet, princess.” He pulled out almost all the way and snapped his hips back into hers quickly. “You’ll come when I tell you to, when I’m ready for you to milk my cock of every last drop so I fill you up right here--” and then with his cock lodged as deep in her as it would go, he pressed down on her stomach, making the head brush against her inner walls. Clarke cried out again, all of her concentration going to not clenching down around him. “You’re gonna make me a daddy, aren’t you, baby? Get all big and round for me so I have to fuck you on all fours while I hold onto our kid inside you? You’re gonna make me such a happy daddy--”

And that wasn’t how he meant it, not exactly, Clarke knew that. But she also knew that she was horny as fuck and the man she loved was whispering filthy things in her ear and she never thought she’d have a daddy kink--

And yet. 

“ _ Yes, Daddy, _ ” she cried, raking her nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. “Fill me up, Daddy.” And from the way Bellamy lost it and started snapping his hips as fast as he possibly could, the words did the same thing to him. She moaned, loud, not caring if anyone else heard her. “Let me come, Daddy, please.”

“Not yet, baby,” he grit out. “God damn it, your cunt is so fucking tight around my cock.” 

She was practically sobbing, she was so close to the edge. “Please, Daddy, you promised to take care of me, I need to come again, please.”

Despite how hard he was fucking her, Bellamy managed to bring one tender hand up to stroke her cheek. “Greedy girl. Shh, princess, I will, I’ll take care of you. But you need to hold out a little longer. You’re not allowed to come yet, okay?” He slowed his rhythm, which was both a blessing and a curse. He was still rocking his hips into her as hard as he could on the instroke, but then he slowly rolled his hips against her, brushing her clit with his pubic bone before pulling out slowly, just to slam back into her again. At least it gave her a little time to catch her breath, but it was still agonizing. 

Clarke lost track of time, lost in a haze of pleasure, trying her best to please Bellamy. She was sure it was only minutes that he made her wait, but it felt like hours. Finally, finally, he praised her. “You’ve done so well for me, baby, so good. You wanna come now, princess?”

Burying her head in his shoulder, she nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Nuh uh, wanna see you when you come on my cock.” He fisted a hand in her hair and pulled her head back out, pleasure zinging down to Clarke’s toes at the tug. “Wanna see you come as I fill you up with my sperm, as I give you a baby.” He pressed his lips to hers briefly before drawing back where he could properly see her face, and picked up the thrusts of his hips. “Alright, princess, come for me.”

He reached in and rolled over her clit with a finger, and she shattered.

She clenched down around him so hard she wasn’t sure how he managed to keep thrusting in and out of her, but a second later it didn’t matter because his hips stuttered to a stop with his cock buried as deep in her as it would go. She could feel his warmth emptying inside her, filling her up, and she wrapped her legs and arms tight around him. He collapsed against her, face buried in her neck, and she sighed in contentment, happy to keep him right here for as long as he’d stay.

* * *

They stayed like that until Bellamy’s cock softened and fell out of her. She mumbled some protest as his warmth left her, but he brushed his lips against her to shush her, gathering her in his arms and moving her up the bed so her head was resting on a pillow. She closed her eyes, entirely exhausted and expecting him to join her in her slumber. But instead, she felt him shifting around, and then suddenly her hips were being lifted and she pried open one eye to see him shoving a pillow under her ass so her hips were tilting back towards her head.

“What are you doing?” she asked, amused.

He looked a little sheepish, even as he reached a hand down to her cunt. She could feel his come dripping out of her, and he gently scooped it onto his finger and pushed it back inside of her. His voice came out as confident and demanding as it had been five minutes ago in the throes of passion, though, as he admitted, “I may or may not be a little obsessed with impregnating you, now, and am doing everything possible to make it happen.” He crawled up her body, peppering her stomach with kisses as she laughed.

“Bell,” she said, fond, running a hand through his hair.. “Just because we haven’t had working implants in years doesn’t mean I’m fertile right now. I have to be ovulating for that to happen, and I ovulated last week; I’m due to start my period in a couple days. The odds of me getting pregnant tonight are practically nonexistent.”

He pouted, and she pressed her lips to his. He drew back after a moment to say, “Well, we’ll just have to keep trying then, and practice makes perfect.”

Clarke laughed. “Yes, we will.”

He settled on his back and pulled her towards him so her head rested in the crook of his shoulder. She swung her leg over his hips as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you.”

She buried her smile against his chest so he could feel it. “I love you, too.”

“I do have a question, though.”

“Ugh. Too tired for questions.”

He turned his head so his mouth was right by her ear. “Daddy kink, huh?”

“That isn’t a question. Also, if I recall correctly, you also got off on the daddy kink. And the impregnation kink. So I really don’t want to hear it,” she said primly.

“Mmmm,” he murmured, his hand drifting from her hip down to massage her ass.

She slapped it away. “No, Daddy, I’m tired. Nap first, round two later.”

Just as she knew they would, his hips thrust up against the leg she had thrown over them, and he groaned. “You little minx.”

She beamed up at him. “ _ Your _ little minx.”

He stared at her in awe. “You’re goddamned right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Idk where this came from y’all. One minute I was watching the s7 trailer for the thousandth time, emotionally compromised bc it looks like nothing but trauma for our poor space babes, and then I was thinking “God, wouldn’t it be nice if they’d never experienced any of that and just got to live out their days in happiness and peace on the ground and why not add some porn to it” and apparently peace + porn = babies and viola, this fic was born. My child, if you would.  
> Please be gentle with it, it is my first explicit fic and was also written in a flurry of type-first-think-later, unbeta-ed and published without editing because we fight and die like amazons. Do tell me your thoughts though, either here or on tumbler www.the-griffin-green-blakes.tumblr.com. Especially let me know if you like it, because I have a few ideas for maybe either continuing it or adding more mini one shots or something, and am also open to prompts. meanwhile I’m gonna go sit in a corner anxiously awaiting for the premiere like boo boo the fool if anyone would care to join


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